


Night Troubles

by LynxCore



Category: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Donnie Is Bad At Feelings, Donnie likes to be the little spoon sometimes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mainly cuddling, One Shot, Reader-Insert, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27321511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynxCore/pseuds/LynxCore
Summary: Donnie isn't doing well, coming to the reader for comfort.Cuddle sessions ensue.________((REQUESTS OPEN!!))
Relationships: Donatello (TMNT)/Gender Neutral Reader, Donatello (TMNT)/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 88





	Night Troubles

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooo!! 
> 
> Here's a short little thingy I wrote in the middle of writing chapter two for The Kids Are (Almost) Alright for a friend on Amino!!

You're curled around the back of Donnie's shell, arms wrapped around him, keeping him close.

Your hands are rested on his plastron, his hands resting over your own, holding them tight even as he slept.

You don't know how late it is, or how long either of you have been asleep. The way the street lights coming in through the blinds luminate the room let you know the sun is a long time away from coming up.

You let the time spent lying with one another become an afterthought, burying your head into the nape of Donnie's neck as your eyes slip shut.

The utter peace seems like it would've be unachievable, considering the state in which Donnie had showed up; panicked and angry and distressed, crying despite never being the type to. He'd been exhausted to the point he could barely stand after his battle-shell had been taken off.

So exhausted, in fact, he hadn't even removed his bandana before he got in bed.

He didn't tell you exactly what had upset him so badly. He just needed to be comforted and held, and you were more than happy to oblige. It wasn't everyday he let himself be that vulnerable, both physically and mentally, so the rare times he did you immediately took.

Donnie stirs, pressing his face into the pillow. He's still asleep, but it's obvious something was bothering him, even as he slept. Something always seemed to have it out for Donnie.

Why him? It's not fair.

You snuggle in closer, curling your body around him as much as you could, moving one thigh to rest atop his own.

A whine of distress comes from him, which immediately has your concern amping up again.

He's trembling. You can feel it in his hands as he clutches yours tighter. He curls in on himself in a way that lets you know the nightmare must be hitting its peak. His breaths are hitching, and his eyebrows are twitching, his hands are shaking.

Ever so slightly, you beging to pull one of your hands out of his. He lets out a wounded, frightened noise as you do, hand squeezing at the empty space.

Gently, you bring that hand up to his face, brushing your knuckles against his cheek, before cupping it in your hand. "Don. ." You murmur.

He whimpers in response, leaning into your hand.

Leaning up on your elbow, you lean over him a bit, chest pressed against the back of his shell. "Donnie. ." You repeated, a little firmer.

That seems to do the trick, seeing as he was never a deep sleeper. He jolts a little, then tenses, his eyes looking around the room frantically, trying to find the threat perviously there.

He's still tense as his eyes finally meet yours, though a look of embarrassment quickly replaces the one of panic. He lets out a breath, letting his head fall back against the pillow. His eyes are focused on the wall in front of him, breathes still hitching.

_Nightmare._

It's obvious.

You _know_ this is a very, very common occurrence for Donnie. And for all his brothers, really. Even April.

Fighting in the battles they had, and enduring the fear they had to, would do that to someone.

Of _course_ Donnie is nightmare prone.

Though, he never liked talking about them. He never even liked to admit he had them.

"Do you wanna talk about it?," you try.

Almost as expected, he answers with a gruff "no".

You move back under the blanket, not wanting to prod or push him any further. You resume your position curled around his shell, now feeling his racing heartbeat against your hands as they rest against his plastron once more.

It's quiet. Almost _too_ quiet. And all you can give Donnie is comfort without words, perpetuating the silence.

Maybe that's what Donnie's needs right now, though. He'd never really taken verbal comfort well when his emotions were heightened and he was trying to calm himself down. Verbal reassurance might only further aid in overwhelming him.

Your thigh is still rested over his, chest pressed against his shell. You gently place a kiss against the nape of his neck, your hand reaching out to interlace your fingers with his.

He covers the hand still resting on his plastron with his free hand, with your thumb gently gliding back and forth against the top of his hand, a silent reassurance. Telling him, _you're safe, you're okay, no one's going to hurt you._

Slowly, minute by minute, he starts to relax under the small caresses, with each small kiss placed to his shoulder trailing to his neck and each slow drag of your thumb.

He seems so frail like this. So hurt and pained, but he wouldn't let anyone in to what's really happening in his mind. Wouldn't let those weeds that had grown over the tender pieces as a way of self-preservation fall away to allow someone to see the most vulnerable side of him.

You could only hold him as he wanted. As he _needed._

As you cuddle forward, cheek pressed against his shell, he brings a hand down. It gently glides over your thigh, resting below it, tenderly gliding a thumb back and forth against the top of your thigh, just above the knee.

"Do you want to talk about it now?" You murmur again.

There's no response immediately. He has to be thinking, weighing out his options. If he accepts, what if you laugh at him? What if you think he's weak? What if-

A loving kiss pressed to his cheek seems to chase those what if's away, and he finally lets out a deep breath.

"It's just- everything, I guess. I keep thinking about all of it too much." He murmurs. It's minute, barely given any details, but it's enough. You understand.

There's a silent understanding between the two of you. The nightmares make sense, and you know how terrifying they can be.

You hope you provide comfort, even if it's slight.

Time becomes an afterthought with each kiss you place, your thumb rubbing comforting circles into his palm.

Eventually, Donnie flips over so he's facing you only. . .he's still not looking _at_ you. He's looking anywhere and everywhere but at _you_ , because the concern in your eyes would be too much for him.

You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, the other hand moving to rest on the top of his shell, an embarrassing look forming on his face.

"I'm so tired." He mutters, eyes slipping shut. Even if he didn't elaborate, you understand.

You know he didn't mean tired as just physically, but mentally as well. It was apparent he wasn't doing well, and he was probably fighting mentally with himself all hours of the day; day in, day out.

If left alone with his thoughts for too long, you know it got bad. His mind always managed to convince him he was unimportant to his brothers, or weaker, making him start to doubt his self-worth or how actually important his impact on others was.

He was too smart for his own good, you think.

When he was like this, all you could do is hold him and wait. Either for him to open up, or to recharge.

He moves again, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. He tugs you closer by your waist as your arms wrap around his shoulders, cheek pressed against the top of his head.

One hand rests on the back of his head, gently twiddling with the velvet purple tails of his bandana, the other rests on his shell. affectionately moving up and down.

He rolls his shoulder into the touch, letting out a small ' _mmh'._

Silence follows, so quiet you could hear the creaking in the walls and hear each breath Donnie took.

It draws out, time becoming blurred in your thoughts.

Finally a noise starts to permeate in the dimly lit room, a churr.

 _Donnie's_ churr.

A noise that you've become well acquired with despite only hearing it in these special moments.

A sound that notifies you, making you aware of his comfort, peace and tranquillity.

You smile to yourself, faint and barely there, as you press a kiss to his forehead.

It's going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed!! ^^
> 
> Comments and criticisms are always welcomed!!
> 
> ALSO, my requests are open!! If you have any, feel free to comment them!!
> 
> I'm also willing to do longer stories with OC's!! If you'd want something like that, feel free to message me on instagram @sqigglemetimbers! ^^
> 
> Anywhoo, until next time!!


End file.
